


I Do As I Please

by Steel_Feather



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Bondage, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fingerfucking, From noncon to DEFINITE consent, Jacob Does What He Wants, Join me in sin, Oneshot, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 03:31:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6036222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steel_Feather/pseuds/Steel_Feather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They have loved your sorrow. They will learn to love your rage instead."</p>
<p>In which Jacob kidnaps a Templar woman, and she isn't what he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Do As I Please

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all like this! I had fun writing it. Quick trigger warning: The sexual situation referenced begins in a non-consensual way, though it does not stay that way very long AT ALL. If you're worried, feel free to skip this fic. I don't want anyone getting hurt, and everyone reacts differently to these things.

The slender girl walked gracefully, an unconscious sway to her hips. Her shoulders were back and her chin lifted proudly. She wore dark, masculine clothes, but they were obviously tailored to her form, revealing much more than they concealed. A rifle was slung across her back, various knives and other weapons concealed on her body. Her blue-black hair was in a tight French braid which was so long that it reached the top of her thighs. Her tanned face was small and delicate, with a large pair of startlingly golden eyes glowing out of it. She wore no ornamentation, no feminine jewelry or cosmetics. Some passersby gave her second and third looks, their eyes caught by her easy assuredness, her beauty, or her predatory grace. She ignored them all, choosing instead to focus on the tasks she had been given.

She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the tall, darkly attired man stalking her through the crowd and following her into an alley. Her first warning, in fact, came when a very large, very _strong_ hand wrenched her right arm behind her back at a painful angle, pulling her to an abrupt stop. She tried to turn, but a sudden twist almost dislocated her shoulder and discouraged the idea.

“I wouldn’t attempt that if I were you,” a low, rough voice rumbled in her ear. “Come along quietly, there’s a good girl.” She cursed mentally. Jacob fucking Frye.

“That’s something I’ve never been accused of before,” she said softly, then whirled in the opposite direction. She felt her shoulder give way, but she ignored it. Frye had gone for the right arm because it was usually the dominant one. It worked in her favor, as she was left-handed. She moved to strike him on the ear with an open palm while simultaneously burying her knee in a very delicate area. He was fast enough to avoid the blow to the head, but his family jewels weren’t so fortunate.

Before she could follow up, he hauled her back against his chest, his forearm against her windpipe, rapidly cutting off her oxygen. She struggled, attempting to lever herself away with her legs, but he was as solid and immovable as a statue. Her vision began to turn grey.

Her efforts became more desperate as she weakened, clawing at his arm with her left hand, leaving bloody furrows on the back of his hand. She felt him chuckle, his chest vibrating against her back. Before she lost consciousness, she heard him say, almost to himself: “It didn’t have to go like this, love.”

She wondered if she was going crazy, or if he actually sounded cheerful.

 

 

The girl woke up tied to a bed, which she took as a very poor omen. Her arms and legs were spread and restrained tightly. She noted that her right shoulder was back in its socket, but it was still quite painful. As she began to test out the rope for any shoddy knots she could exploit, Jacob Frye walked into the room.

He really had a devilish air about him, she observed. The look almost charmed her, but she remembered that he was her enemy. He held up a tattered square of white fabric with a red cross on it, and she looked over to find it missing from her sleeve. The bastard must have torn it off of her.

“I think you know how this works,” he told her. “You’re a Templar. I’m an Assassin. I won’t bore you with some long speech about it. However, I do need information.”

“You will never obtain it from _me._ ”

He walked over to her right side. “I suppose we’ll have to see about that,” he told her, and squeezed her recently dislocated shoulder. She gritted her teeth against the white-hot wave of pain, and said nothing.

Frye studied her face speculatively. “What loyalty do you owe the likes of Starrick, anyway?” he asked.

“I won’t bore you with a long speech,” she shot back.

He smirked at her turn of phrase. “Y’know, I’ve never been a fan of torture. Fortunately, an alternative presents itself…”

He stroked her face with a calloused hand, his thumb brushing over her lips. Her eyes widened as she comprehended his meaning, and she tried to bite the offending digit, but he was too quick. A youthful eagerness suffused his features, and it would have been rather adorable under different circumstances. Before she could react, he climbed onto the bed and straddled her. She could feel him on her lower abdomen, already well past half mast. He reached up and stroked her hair, examining the thick braid slowly, languorously. The motion shouldn’t have seemed erotic, but it did.

He flung her braid aside, then extended his infamous wrist blade. She flinched involuntarily, which he noticed.

“Ah, love,” he murmured in her ear, “I won’t be hurting you today.” He slipped the blade underneath her blouse and coat. She could feel it, sharp and cold against her skin. With one smooth motion, he cut her clothes up the middle, and she could feel her nipples already hardening in the cool air of the room. She tried to shift away from him, unable to stop herself. He slipped a large hand under her clothes, around her waist. His thumb rested on the underside of her breast, his pinky reaching past the waistband of her trousers. His sheer size made her feel tiny.

She sucked in a breath as he nibbled on her earlobe, one hand starting to pull her trousers down. After a moment, he had to divert his attention to unbuttoning them, as they would go no further. He used his blade to cut them off of her completely, leaving her in only her underwear and the torn blouse and coat. She felt something coil low in her belly, some combination of helplessness, fear, and primal attraction.

The Assassin spread her cut garments wide, drinking in the sight of her slim, lithe body, the flat, toned stomach, full, perky breasts with dusky nipples, delicate bones at her collar only framing her pale throat. He took one of her breasts in hand, massaging and rolling the taut nub between his fingertips while he began to suck and nip along her jawline by turns. She tried again to pull away, but found she was effectively pinned, so she attempted to ignore him.

He yanked her braid down, forcing her face up to his own as he claimed her lips. The kiss was insistent, but surprisingly gentle. He pushed his way past her lips, and she pretended to kiss him back for a few seconds before biting down on his lower lip viciously. He withdrew, blood flowing freely, and looked down at her with an odd light in his eyes. Defiantly, she licked her lips and smirked, letting the coppery metallic tang of his blood flow over her tongue.

Frye smiled darkly down at her. “I am more than happy to do this your way,” he promised her, a growl finding its way into his voice. Before she realized what had happened, he ripped her upper garments apart at the seams and yanked them off her. Her eyes widened at the unexpected strength he apparently possessed. When his fingertips brushed against the waistband of her panties, a quiet whimper escaped her. “Last chance, love,” he murmured, lips against her collarbone. “Just tell me about Starrick.”

After a long moment, she shook her head. He lifted himself off her a little bit. His eyes were full of a lust that hit her like a punch to the gut. Without breaking eye contact, he rolled his pelvis against hers, and she could feel something very large and very hard down there. For the first time, she felt a thrill of fear, and she quickly clamped down on it. Frye was still staring into her eyes as he gripped her underwear in both hands and ever so slowly shredded them apart. The sound was that of her last barrier being stripped away. The cool air in the room washed over her most intimate flesh an instant before his hand covered it, stroking softly. A thick index finger parted her folds while he used a thumb to circle her clitoris, stimulating thousands of nerve endings at once.

“Ah!” she cried, struggling not to feel any of the pleasure he was drowning her in. She could feel herself getting wet, and so could he, for he smirked knowingly at her. When he pushed a finger deep inside her, she had to stifle a moan. She had hoped that he would do what he wanted quickly, but he seemed inclined to draw it out, to torment her as much as possible. A second finger joined the first, stretching her, and her hips moved up of their own volition. A third finger, and he encountered her intact maidenhead. She felt uncomfortable pressure, and then his head shot up, his hazel eyes meeting her golden ones.

“Oh, God,” he breathed, “I’m your first.” She wanted to look away from him, away from the combination of lust, gentleness, and faint guilt she saw written across his face. “I’ll be as delicate as possible,” he promised, and her brow furrowed. _What possible reason can he have to behave in such a way_ now _?_ she asked herself curiously.

Her attention was stolen back when the Assassin climbed off of the bed. He walked over to a small, shabby-looking table, his back to her, and began carefully removing the weapons he wore and carried. She could just make out her own tools, laid out next to his. He took off his hat. His coat. She tried to calm her breathing once more and regain control of herself as he stripped, piece by piece, without looking at her even once.

She failed.

As he took his shirt off, she saw a cross tattooed on his shoulder. Not a Templar cross by any stretch of the imagination, however. His back was well-muscled and toned, a few scars dusted over its surface, some deeper and uglier than others. Now wearing only his underwear, he turned back to her, and she saw another tattoo on his left collarbone, a raven from the looks of it. He had a light amount of dark hair on his chest and lower abdomen, which only served to accentuate the objectively beautiful muscle tone he possessed. She felt her cheeks heat, and scolded herself for it.

She pulled as far away as the ropes would allow her, knowing it was a futile attempt. A rough hand stroked her face gently, turning her back towards him. “What’s your name?”

Her eyes shot to his, and he could clearly see a mixture of anger, helplessness, and the fear of a prey animal that has just realized it’s trapped. After a long moment, she breathed one word.

“Adeline.”

He kissed her again, and she didn’t fight it. In fact, some instinct kicked in and she started to kiss him back, nibbling and sucking on his lower lip.

Her participation clearly excited him far more than he had been previously, and she suspected that Jacob Frye was a man who vastly preferred a willing partner. His tongue swept into her mouth, proving to be adept and skillful where he should have been clumsy. She tentatively allowed her own tongue to dance with his, savoring the taste of whiskey and peppermint he brought. It was intoxicating, and she could feel unfamiliar yet pleasant sensations dancing through her entire body. Her back arched off the mattress, pressing as close to him as she could get, and she felt his chest vibrate as he growled and put his hands on her waist, nearly encircling it. He nipped her lower lip, and she found she enjoyed the sensation.

When he began to pull back, she cried out at the loss. He gave her a darkly sensual look as he moved down her body, large hands firmly gripping her thighs. He began to trail kisses along her inner thigh, making her squirm. As he lowered his head to the apex of her thighs, she had a terrible notion of what would come next.

“Mr. Frye… Jacob!” she gasped, as she felt the first probe of his tongue on tender flesh. It seemed to spur him on, for he swiped over her throbbing clitoris before beginning to suck gently.

Adeline saw flashes of red across her vision. She could feel her body building to some unknown height, winding tighter…

When Jacob put two fingers inside her and found a spot she hadn’t known she had, she fell apart. Red and gold bursts like Chinese fireworks danced before her eyes, and she struggled to breathe. The feeling was such an intense pleasure, at first she believed it to be pain. Her body shook, tremors coursing through her muscles. She lost touch with all her senses for a time.

When she came to her senses, Jacob was sprawled on top of her, his face above her head. She leaned up as far as she could and set her mouth to his throat, sucking and licking at his skin. She didn’t know when the situation had changed, but she now wanted the man above her, with a dark desire she hadn’t known she was capable of.

He sucked in a harsh breath, becoming motionless. Adeline gave him the edge of her teeth, wanting him to feel as she did, and he shuddered. After a moment, he retreated down her body once more, his face turned away from her.

She felt suddenly shy. Perhaps he hadn’t liked what she had done, or he thought her too bold. Whatever the case, a pit began to grow in her stomach the longer he refused to look at her.

Slowly, Jacob started to untie her ankles. Stunned, she didn’t move until they were both unfastened, then she drew her legs together, providing some scant coverage for herself. He moved to her wrists next, silently undoing her bonds. She sat up and covered her breasts, feeling a deep, irrational pain in her heart. She couldn’t meet his eyes.

His hand gently tipped her face up to him, and she saw his expression. He looked torn, still battling a fierce lust, but consumed with regret, guilt, and sadness. He resembled a pup who had just been kicked by his master.

“Adeline,” he said, and she breathed out unsteadily to hear her name on his tongue, the rough accent setting her aflutter again. “I can’t force you. I couldn’t live with myself if I did. If you really want to leave, I won’t stop you.”

She couldn’t believe her ears. He was just going to let her go? She rose from the bed and stood on shaky legs before her brain caught up, then hesitated.

Now that she had the choice, she wasn’t at all sure what she wanted. An hour ago, she would have fled without a second thought. But now…

Now, watching Jacob as he looked at her, it was confusing. She _wanted_ him, certainly, but she felt that she shouldn’t. What woman in her right mind would accept a man who had abducted her, had tied her up and taken advantage of her? A man whose allegiance and purpose naturally lay at a crossroads with her own.

She knew all these things, and yet, she couldn’t bring herself to walk out the door. Not while she still felt the aftershocks of her first orgasm, nor while Jacob waited with the seeds of hope beginning to blossom in his eyes.

She reached up to his face with a trembling hand, stroking his cheek, before she tangled her fingers in his hair and yanked him closer, her lips claiming his.

Jacob let her take the lead, responding to her with carefully controlled enthusiasm. Adeline suspected he was trying his hardest not to frighten her away, but she wanted more. She turned and pulled him abruptly on top of her on the bed, spreading her legs to cradle him invitingly between her hips.

As he sucked a bruise onto the tender skin of her throat, she let her hands roam over his chest and stomach, feeling hard muscle flutter slightly under her fingertips, then reached around to appreciate his broad back, exploring every dip and ridge. He hummed appreciatively, nipping at her jawline and carding his hands into her hair. She almost moaned at the sensation of his nails on her scalp.

Tentatively, she lowered her hands to the waistband of his underwear, and he groaned, moving as close as possible. She took this as a sign of encouragement and pulled them off of him, freeing his erection. Before she could lose her nerve, she wrapped her hand around him gently, feeling silky warm skin over the hard flesh beneath. He hissed through his teeth.

“If you don’t stop, love, you’re going to unman me,” he told her, and she let go reluctantly. He caught her lips with his own, sucking the bottom one into his mouth, while he slid a finger inside her. Feeling how wet she still was, he grinned against her mouth and shifted down a little, letting her feel tongue and a hint of teeth in the hollow of her throat. He pressed his thumb to her clit and started making small circles, and her body jerked in response.

Jacob shifted, poised at her entrance, and looked up at her, silently begging for permission. Adeline could see herself reflected in his dark eyes, the far-reaching consequences of a single choice echoing in her head, but she nodded. She wanted this too badly to say no now.

He thrust into her, and though he was gentle, she felt a burning, tearing sensation in her core and gasped. He stilled inside her, breathing heavily, and leaned his forehead against hers.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Just… give me a moment,” she gasped, and he nodded sharply, reaching down to her clit again. She moaned softly as a fresh wave of pleasure radiated outward, bathing her limbs in warmth and washing away the pain. After a moment, she nodded at him, and he began to move.

Adeline had never felt anything like it before. The sensation of being filled to the brim, having her insides stroked over and over, the angles constantly shifting just a little bit, left her a gasping, writhing mess beneath Jacob. She clawed at his back, out of her mind with pleasure, leaving bloody furrows. He bit down on her throat, just shy of breaking the skin, and something primal inside her responded. She nipped at his earlobe, seeing stars when his hands stroked and cupped her breasts, tugging and tweaking her sensitive nipples.

Her second orgasm shocked her, leaving her breathless in its wake. Her inner walls rippled and clenched, and Jacob followed her over the edge with a hoarse shout, spilling his seed inside her as he collapsed on top of her. She nuzzled her chin into his warmth, and when he pulled out of her and rolled off, he brought her with him, draping her over his chest.

Adeline fell asleep while Jacob traced lazy circles on the naked skin of her back, feeling more protected and safe than she had in a long time, in the arms of the enemy.

 

 

When she woke, dawn hadn’t yet presented itself on the horizon, and Jacob was still fast asleep, one arm flung over her. She carefully slid out from under it, braced to see his eyes flutter open, but he appeared to be a deep sleeper. She tiptoed over to the table with her weapons, breathing a quiet sigh of relief when she saw that everything was still there, then strapped them on before looking around for her clothes.

Adeline suppressed a groan of frustration. He had cut through _every piece_ of her clothing. Nothing was wearable, except… a wicked grin curved her full mouth as her eyes lit on Jacob’s clothing.

She put all of it on. His undergarments, breeches, blouse, waistcoat, coat, boots, and top hat. She left his weapons untouched, taking hers instead, then crept over to the bed, where Jacob still lay, snoring lightly.

Smirking, she gathered up his hands and tied them together securely with the rope he had taken off her the night before, then secured them to the headboard. She left his feet untied, preferring not to push her luck, and had to suppress a giggle at the thought of his Rooks finding him tied to a bed, naked.

She made her way to the door, wrapped in yards of excess cloth, then turned back to him. He looked peaceful, almost childlike in repose, and she felt an unexpected warmth for this brash, cocky, _dangerous_ man, who had shown her an unexpectedly gentle side. She blew him a kiss, then scurried out the door and away.

As she melted into the streets of London once more, she told herself that Jacob Frye was still her enemy, that the delicious soreness between her legs made no difference. If she saw him again, she would kill him. He was no more important than her cause was.

She knew she was lying to herself, but it didn’t stop her from trying.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Please leave kudos and comments. If this gets enough attention, I may expand it later, but I am working on other fics for now, so don't worry too much if it takes a while.


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